


Layer of Water

by AmmoKnotKnot7



Series: Stanning Sokka Week 2020 [6]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Family Feels, Future Fic, Kid Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Midnight Sun, One Shot, POV Sokka (Avatar), Post-Canon, Post-War, Protective Siblings, Sibling Bonding, Sickfic, Sokka (Avatar)-centric, Sokka Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27420526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmmoKnotKnot7/pseuds/AmmoKnotKnot7
Summary: Day 6 –biological family| cooking“You’re so strong baby,” he says, with big and exaggerated expressions, then drops his voice conspiratorially. “At your age, I used to be a little wimp.”It works. She giggles and shakes her head like she’s obligated to defend her dad. “No you weren’t, you’re lying.”“Nooo,” Sokka intones. “I hated being sick and I complained and complained and drove everyone up the wall.” He walks his fingers up her tummy to demonstrate, and she shrieks delightedly, twisting away.“Just ask your Auntie Katara.”
Relationships: Izumi & Sokka (Avatar), Izumi & Zuko (Avatar), Kanna & Katara & Sokka (Avatar), Kanna & Sokka (Avatar), Katara & Sokka (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Stanning Sokka Week 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994821
Comments: 20
Kudos: 230
Collections: Sokka Week 2020





	Layer of Water

**Author's Note:**

> This one took slightly longer, and i had to write parts of it on my phone in a shitty hospital waiting chair at 3am (no worries). Not particularly edited either. I just put down words and made them your problem
> 
> i really love the idea of kid fics, but i have no idea what kids are like, so. advice is gratefully accepted, but be gentle with me

“Daddy?” 

Izumi stumbles into Sokka’s office, rubbing at her eye with one hand and clutching her Appa plushie in the other. 

It is much too late in the night for Sokka to not immediately worry. 

“Yes, baby? What’s wrong?” He’s already getting up and walking around his desk. 

“I don’t feel good.” The slight pout on her lips pulls at Sokka’s heartstrings. Frowning, he kneels in front of her, bringing the back of his hand against her forehead. 

She’s significantly warmer than him, but they haven’t yet determined if she’s a firebender or not. 

“Does it hurt anywhere sweetie?” 

She nods, a little jerkily, sleep still clinging to the edges of her consciousness, and pokes a finger into her tummy. 

Sokka shifts on his haunches, considering. Zuko is already asleep, and a healthy sleep schedule is rare enough for him that Sokka doesn’t want to wake him unless it’s absolutely necessary. They had attended a festival yesterday, and spoiled Izumi the entire time, more than a little irresponsibly. So it could just be a stomach bug. 

Still, the anxiety pricking in the corner of his mind is not easily sated, and he doesn’t want to risk it being more serious and letting it get worse. And Zuko will want to know too. 

A few more seconds of holding Izumi in a hug, and the concern wins over the guilt of waking the royal physician. If it turns out to be trivial, he won’t bother Zuko. 

Izumi is reaching the age when being carried around is getting rarer every day, and she’s clearly relishing the opportunity to wrap her little arms around Sokka’s neck and burrowing her face in as he carries her to the healing wing. It's doing just as much for Sokka’s heart to have his baby clutched that close. 

He makes an absent mental note to train himself to lift more. 

A few minutes and a few questions later, bouncing Izumi on his knee the entire time, Sokka’s guess is proven true. Nothing but a little bug, she’s prescribed some medicine and lots of rest, and they’re sent on their way by a disgruntled physician trying his best not to look it. 

“Do you want to sleep with me and Papa tonight, firecracker?” Sokka asks the bundle he’s now carrying to their chambers. 

The bundle shifts and hums, her little nose rubbing against the skin above his collar as she nods. 

Grinning, Sokka deposits her on the room-sized bed commissioned for the FireLord. She immediately crawls over to her Papa, trying to pry his arms open so she can burrow in. 

Zuko stirs, squinting his eyes open as he wakes. “Mimi?” he questions with a gravelly sleepy voice. “Everything okay, baby?” That sounds more awake. 

“No, I'm ill,” she grumbles, squirming as close as she can get. 

Sokka leans in before he gets too worried. Brushes a hand over his forehead, kissing it lightly. “Just a little stomach bug. I took her to see Shoma, we’re all good.” 

Zuko does the opposite of being comforted because of course he does. Frowns harder. “You woke Shoma?” 

Sokka chuckles. “If I brought her in here without having done that first, you’d be knocking down his door right now.” 

Zuko hmphs, and then Izumi demands all their attention till she falls asleep. 

Zuko postpones most of his meetings for the next day, but one can’t be. Pushing that meeting would mean missing peak harvest season and crops getting ruined for an island along the eastern end of the Fire Nation archipelago. 

It means Zuko has to leave after lunch, and Izumi doesn’t like it. 

Sokka is left with the task of distract and engage. 

He makes her finish every drop of her medicine, then settles into bed next to her. 

“You’re so strong baby,” he says, with big and exaggerated expressions, then drops his voice conspiratorially. “At your age, I used to be a little wimp.” 

It works. She giggles and shakes her head like she’s obligated to defend her dad. “No you weren’t, you’re lying.” 

“Nooo,” Sokka intones. “I hated being sick and I complained and complained and drove everyone up the wall.” He walks his fingers up her tummy to demonstrate, and she shrieks delightedly, twisting away. 

“Just ask your Auntie Katara.” 

* * *

“Mom! Sokka’s lying about being sick again.” 

“Am not!” 

“Are too!” 

Sokka coughs in Katara’s face to make a point. She gasps with big eyes, both of them frozen for a moment. 

“He’s trying to make me sick too!” Her voice goes all shrill in shock, and she tries to throw the fur on their bed at Sokka, stumbling under the weight. 

“I thought you said I was lying. If I'm not sick then you can’t get sick, right?” Sokka pushes the fur away easily, but doesn’t try to throw it back because Dad said he’s bigger and has to be more careful because he could really hurt Katara. 

Katara never flounders when he makes a logical point. “You’re not clever, Sokka.” It’s infuriating. 

Mom pushes into their room. “What are you two shouting about?” 

“Mom!” Katara exclaims, but Sokka runs and gets there first. “Mom, I'm sick,” he sniffles into her anorak. 

Unlike his evil sister, Mom believes him. Whenever they’re sick, they get to sleep in the big room with Gran Gran. Anytime he wakes up during the night, Mom is always there with soft hands and cool cloth and warm soup and gentle words. 

It would be amazing, if not for the little fact that Sokka is dying. 

He tells Katara as much, wanting to set his affairs in order and sort everything out. She sits with him during the day when Gran Gran is busy. 

Katara rolls her eyes. “You’re not _dying_ , don’t be dumb, dumbo.” 

Sokka sniffles. Wherever he’s covered, it feels like it’s burning up, like that time he didn’t listen to Dad and tried to touch the bright flames in their hearth. And wherever he’s exposed is freezing like he went for a swim during polar night. Of course he’s dying, what else could it all mean. 

Katara is just in denial because she loves him so much. 

“Issokay to be scared, Tara,” he tries to say, but it gets a little garbled. The scoff coming from above him suggests she understood anyway. 

“M not scared.” Small hands align the wet cool cloth on his forehead carefully. “You’re just a wimp who can’t handle a little fever.” 

Sokka wants to point out that she never gets sick, she wouldn’t know. But sleep is quicker than his tongue this time. 

He dreams that he’s riding the Great Wolf-Bear that lives in the stars. Dad had taught him to find it in the sky last week. He soars from the sea line to ice mountains, guiding the spirits’ way and making them happy so they could make colors dance just like Gran Gran said the Great Wolf-Bear did. All the animal spirits are impressed with Sokka’s boomerang that touches the farthest star and still comes back. It only started returning two moons ago, and Dad carried him on his shoulders the entire day. 

When he gets better, Mom makes his favorite seal jerky with extra igunaq. He gets to sit in her lap and she feeds him and Katara, who’s squeezed into Mom’s side because she’s jealous, herself. 

* * *

“Not that she was any better.” 

“But you said Auntie Katara didn’t get sick.” 

“Not usually, no. She never got colds or fevers like everyone else, but-” 

“Because she’s a master waterbender?” 

Sokka frowns down at his daughter. “Has she been teaching you to call her that?” 

Izumi purses her lips in a way that makes her chubby cheeks look even cuter. “...maybe. But it’s true.” Pause. “Right?” 

Sokka sighs. “Now, it is. Back then she had no idea what she was doing. I was the victim that got drenched whenever she tried anything with her magic water.” 

Sokka makes a particularly put-upon expression, and Izumi giggles. “It’s not magic, Daddy, it’s-” 

“Bending, yes trust me, I know. Your Auntie made sure of that.” His fingers play along the edge of her tunic absently. When she squirms, fighting a laugh, Sokka grins and leans down to blow a raspberry on her tummy, making the squirming increase tenfold and those chuckles bubble up in all their adorable glory. 

The laughter takes a while to die down. As Izumi catches her breath, Sokka continues with his story. 

“As I was saying, Katara never got sick like we did. But,” he emphasizes, booping a finger on Izumi’s nose, suddenly simultaneously struck both by how much she’s grown since she was a baby, and how little she still is. “But, she always got sick during midnight sun. Do you remember that, fire cracker?” 

Izumi nods dutifully. Sokka typically took his family to the south pole closer to the equinoxes, when the weather was milder and the days and nights relatively the same length. But last year they hadn’t been able to manage a trip till the summer. Zuko had gotten comically loopy and hyper with all the sun. Izumi likes to recount those stories almost every other month. 

“Not having the moon for those weeks does something to waterbenders. And she was exactly as whiny as me, if not more.” 

* * *

It’s the first summer since Dad and the other warriors left. Sokka is trying to teach the boys left (behind, left behind, alone) ice fishing, because they’re too young to actually go hunting. 

Midnight sun is getting closer. They saw the moon for a few hours yesterday, but it stopped getting fully dark a few days ago. Gran Gran is out later every day, ensuring that everyone is careful of the madness. Everyone wants to keep working, especially now that they’re only half of the tribe left. 

Left behind. 

Katara is being stubborn about her orders to stay in the igloo and rest. 

“But I don’t even feel a little warm yet, I'm fine.” 

“Katara, Gran Gran said you have to stay inside,” Sokka replies without looking at her, loading up the supplies for ice fishing onto the qamutiik. 

“Oh please,” Katara scoffs and brushes past his shoulder as she heaves the second bundle on top on the one Sokka just put down. “You know those kids are going to be useless. At least if I come, we’ll actually get a decent catch.” 

“Not if you try to use your dumb magic powers and scare away all the fish,” Sokka replies, walking off to find his group of warriors-in-training. 

“Sokka if I don’t practice, I'm never going to get better. Don’t you want our tribe to have waterbenders again?” Katara says, following right behind him like an irritating snow moth. 

“I literally couldn’t care less about bending and spirits and all that.” 

There they are, the entire group huddled outside the potty hut. Sokka heralds the lot of them onto the sled, and Katara comes along despite Sokka’s best efforts. 

They do get a better catch with her, even though Sokka would never admit it. Regardless, his trainees manage some too, and he’s very proud. 

Katar pouts about the scolding Gran Gran gives her as they set up the blackout furs so that they can get sleep. And the next day it all catches up to her, like it does every year. 

Sokka is stuck with dunk-Katara-with-water duty in the morning. 

“You’re not supposed splash it everywhere, you’re supposed to dab.” 

“I’m dabbing,” Sokka snaps, moving the dripping cloth over her arms and face for the fourth time in an hour. 

“Sokkaaa,” she whines, writhing and twisting and splashing way more water around than he had. “You’re not doing it correctly.” 

“What do you want me to do then,” Sokka demands, stopping entirely. 

“I don’t know, I'm hot, it’s all hot, you have to make it colder.” 

“Well, unlike you I do not have magic, I can’t change the seasons,” Soka retorts, but his voice has softened a little at her obvious distress. 

He gets an idea. Dips the cloth back into the bucket, squeezes, then drags it along her hairline, so that the water runs over her hair and scalp. It seems to help, she stops thrashing at least. 

Sokka leaves the cloth for now, leaning against the snow and blubber wall. 

After a few still minutes, Katara speaks in a small voice. “I want Mom.” 

A pang of guilt rushes through Sokka. He still hasn’t told Katara about the nightmare he’s been having recently. He tries his best to fix it, but parchment and charcoal are limited in the tribe. He tried drawing her in the snow with a stick once, but it still looked more like Katara. 

He hasn’t let himself think that he might actually have forgotten, not yet. He knows Katara hasn’t forgotten, could never have done that to Mom, and that’s just. It's just not allowed. 

“I know,” he replies. “I want Dad.” 

It’s easier like this, in the dark that they had to make themselves by blocking out as much of the sun as possible, not facing each other. 

He’s still up with her after Gran Gran already told the tribe to get some sleep. Even though she’s clearly weaker than she was earlier, Katara is still frowning at him. 

“You know you’re risking the madness.” 

“I know,” Sokka answers, stirring the ice melting over the fire so he can take it off before it gets too warm. 

“If you get sick too, Gran Gran will have to do everything by herself.” 

“Why don’t you concentrate on making yourself better, and I'll handle myself.” Sokka transfers the water into the bucket and pulls it over to Katara’s bed. 

She rolls her eyes. “You know how this goes, I can’t make myself better.” 

“Bet you could if you tried. We really don’t know how it works.” 

She huffs, annoyed, and doesn’t speak till Sokka already has wet wraps along her legs. 

“You don’t have to stay up with me,” she whispers finally. 

The cloth pauses on its way to her neck. 

“Who else will?” 

* * *

Izumi’s eyes are wide and round by the time his story finishes. 

“Well, could she?” 

“Could she what?” 

“Could she make herself better if she tried.” 

Sokka shakes his head. “No, after all. When we went to the North Pole we found that most waterbenders were affected by the midnight sun, and there wasn’t very much to do about it.” 

“Of course,” he adds, “they could maintain a layer of water coating them with their bending, which is a lot more efficient than our cloth and bucket system.” 

“Like Auntie does when she heals our bruises? But all over her body?” 

“Yup just like that. You are very smart princess,” Sokka grins, tapping at her temple. Izumi chuckles and bats his hand away. 

The excitement of it all is beginning to catch up to her. Her eyelids droop, and Sokka moves on from the stories to a soft lullaby. He watches her sleep for a long moment before going to fetch a brush, an inkstone and some parchment. 

He remembers the first time he got sick after Mom. It had been a few months, and Dad tried to be the same with them, but they could tell he was taking it hard. It was possibly the only time Sokka felt ill and tried not to let anyone know, let alone complain like he usually did. 

But Katara and he did still share a room, and he jolted awake from a fever dream to the soft hands and cool cloth and gentle voice he’d always woken to, like that. It took him an embarrassingly long minute to realize that the hands were smaller, the voice younger, and there wasn’t any soup because Katara couldn’t make any yet. 

But she learned, and she stayed all night, and he got to complain all he wanted from next time onwards, every time.

When Zuko enters, Sokka raises a finger to his lips, gesturing Izumi’s sleeping form with his eyes. Zuko smiles, pads over quietly to drop a kiss on Sokka’s head, and goes to lie with their daughter. 

He remembers when she was still a baby. Whenever she had a fever, Zuko would lay in bed with her clutched to his bare chest, taking away her temperature for himself. She was so small her legs didn’t even reach his waistband when her head was tucked under Zuko’s chin. 

Now he curls her into his body, and her feet tangle with Zuko’s knees. 

Sokka writes his sister a letter. With an attached drawing of the image on his bed, with skill that has come leagues since a frustrated child tried desperately to remember his Mom’s face and sketch it in the snow. 

**Author's Note:**

> family is your comforting layer of water when you're cut off from the source of your power 
> 
> [my Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/omni-flex). come say hi!  
> [the official Tumblr for SokkaWeek2020](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sokkaweek). check it out for rules, schedule and prompts.  
> [the ao3 collection.](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SokkaWeek2020)


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